


Fall Foliage Tour

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Series: The Boy from Brooklyn [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: You and Steve take a tour of the northeast fall foliage.





	Fall Foliage Tour

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a Tumblr challenge - Photo is Worth a Thousand Words Challenge. Moodboard below was used for inspiration.

Fall seemed to sneak up on you, taking you by surprise. One day you were wearing short sleeves, working in your garden, and the next you were dragging your sweaters out of the plastic container under your bed. You loved Fall though, so you couldn’t really complain.

You’d just poured yourself a cup of coffee and grabbed your book from the table when there was a soft knock on your door, so you detoured, making a quick u-turn in the middle of the living room to open the front door.

Steve was standing on your front porch, a bright blue gift bag clutched in his hands, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Hi,” you grinned. “You’re a day early.” The two of you had a date the next day, so you hadn’t expected to see him until then.

“Hi,” he exhaled. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” you said, stepping back and holding the door open.

Steve stepped inside, pausing beside you to brush a kiss across your lips, before crossing the room and sitting on your sofa. He patted the seat beside him.

“What’s going on?” you asked, taking the seat he indicated.

He set the blue gift bag on your lap, grinning sheepishly. “Open it.”

“What is this for?” you murmured. “It’s not my birthday.”

“I can only give you gifts on your birthday?” Steve scoffed. “I don’t think so.” He tapped the bag. “Open it.”

You sliced the tape on the gift bag with your fingernail and opened it. Inside was a black Polaroid camera with a red bow, along with some film. You pulled it out of the bag and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

“You got me a camera?” you said, smiling.

“For tomorrow,” Steve smiled, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, an adorable smile lighting up his face.

“Tomorrow?”

“I thought it would be fun if we went on one of those tours where you look at the leaves changing colors,” Steve said. “I was going to bring my sketchbook and I thought you might want to take a camera.” He shrugged, his cheeks tinted pink. He stared at the floor between his feet, his fingers twisting nervously together. “I’m borrowing a quinjet so we can fly to Boston, even though Tony has done nothing but complain about it since he found out. Complain and harass me endlessly about it. Anyway, we’ll go up to Boston and then there’s this tour that goes up through Maine and New Hampshire, and back around to Boston. I don’t know, I thought it would be fun. Or maybe, you know, if you don’t want to -”

You put a hand on his arm, freezing his words in his throat. He grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

“Steve, that sounds amazing,” you murmured.

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

You squeezed Steve’s hand as you trailed after him, your camera clutched in the hand that wasn’t holding his. You were wandering through an old cemetery beside a church, the trees surrounding it absolutely gorgeous. Steve gestured to a spot under one of the trees which gave you a view of the entire cemetery, the church, and the trees.

He leaned against the tree and propped his sketchbook on his legs, while you sat a few feet in front of him, snapping pictures, laying them out in front of you as the camera spit them out. The late afternoon sun was warm, so you slipped off the sweatshirt you’d been wearing most of the day, folded it, and used it as a pillow as you stretched out by Steve’s feet, eyes closed, face turned toward the sun.

It had been a perfect day, starting with the exhilarating ride in the quinjet from the Avengers compound to Boston, the train ride north, every stop more beautiful than the last, the fall colors so vivid and bright it was overwhelming. You’d taken what seemed like a million pictures and every time you’d looked Steve’s way, he’d been sketching, a small smile on his face. That alone had been the whole trip memorable.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Steve’s whispered right beside your ear.

You opened your eyes to his gorgeous blue ones staring into yours. You blinked several times, realizing that you must have fallen asleep. You stretched your arms above your head and smiled at Steve.

He brushed a kiss across your lips, his head propped on one hand, the other sliding around your waist. You turned to face him and snuggled closer, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing the mole he had on his left cheek.

“Hi,” you murmured.

“Hi,” Steve laughed, ducking his head to kiss you again, leaving you breathless. “Can we talk about something for a minute?”

“Sure,” you replied warily. These kind of conversations never went well. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit, sorry! Nothing is wrong, I promise.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “I thought we could talk about us. I was thinking that if you want, I’d love for the two of us to be exclusive. As a couple, I mean. I-I don’t know, if you want -”

You cut Steve off with a kiss, just brushing your lips over his. “I thought we were exclusive,” you laughed nervously. “You do know that no one else wants to date me, right?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed and a scowl marred his attractive face. “Yeah, well those other guys are idiots,” he grumbled. “They have no idea what they’re missing. Which is lucky for me.”

Warmth spread through you at Steve’s words. You swallowed around the lump in your throat and prayed he didn’t notice how nervous you were. “I can promise you that you’re the only guy I’ve been dating and the only one I want to date.”

“Good,” Steve said. “I didn’t want to have to kick anyone’s ass.”

Your laughter was cut off by Steve’s mouth on yours, the kiss all consuming. You were both panting when you broke apart, your entire body warm and tingling.

“I think we need to get back to the train,” he murmured, reluctantly rising to his feet and looking at his watch. “Time to head back to Boston and then home.”

You nodded and let him help you to your feet. He picked up your sweatshirt and camera, along with the pictures and his sketchbook, holding everything in one hand, the fingers of his other one intertwined with yours.

Back on the train, you leaned against the cool window, closed your eyes, and tried to catch your breath while you wrapped your head around the fact that you were now officially Captain America’s girlfriend.

“You okay, Y/N?” Steve asked, his arm resting on the back of the seat, his fingers on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m perfect.” You kissed the corner of his mouth and squeezed his knee.

Steve picked up his sketchbook, which was on the seat between the two of you, opening it and flipping through it page by page. You couldn’t help but peek at what he’d drawn, curiosity getting the best of you. Each page was filled with beautiful color sketches of different things you’d seen during the day - the bridge surrounded by trees, the small shop on a quiet street in one of the small towns you’d gone through, and of course, the cemetery. Your breath caught in your throat when he flipped to the last page.

It was a pencil sketch of you, lying in the grass at his feet. He must have done it while you were sleeping, capturing you with your eyes closed and your hands resting on your stomach. It was absolutely gorgeous - he’d been far too kind when sketching you, making you look like some kind of rubenesque goddess. You didn’t even realize you’d reached out and touched the edge of the page until Steve cleared his throat.

You looked up at him, shocked to see a blush coloring his cheeks, his eyes downcast. He shrugged and smiled.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “It’s easy to draw someone as beautiful as you.”

“Steve -” you shook your head, unable to put into words the emotions swirling around in your head. “Th-that’s not me.”

“That’s how I see you,” he murmured.

“You’re teasing,” you argued, your head shaking from side to side.

Steve took hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “No, I’m not,” he insisted.

“You don’t have to -”

He cut you off, a finger to your lips, leaned over you, his forehead pressed against yours, his arm sliding around your waist.

“Every time I look at you, this is what I see,” he breathed, tapping the sketchbook. “You’re the most beautiful thing in my world.”


End file.
